


Objects in Motion

by alyse



Category: CSI: Las Vegas
Genre: Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyse/pseuds/alyse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It's Warrick who gets to possess Nick in a way that she never could, but it's Nick she wants to possess.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Objects in Motion

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [](http://ashism.livejournal.com/profile)[**ashism**](http://ashism.livejournal.com/) for the betaing duties. The story can also be found on [Always Thinking](http://www.cathandnick.com/).

  
  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[fandom: csi](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/fandom:+csi), [fic fandom: csi](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/fic+fandom:+csi), [fic genre: threesomefic](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/fic+genre:+threesomefic)  
  
---|---  
  
_As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill. I was drawn in by short gasps, inhaled at each momentary recovery, lost finally in the dark caverns of her throat, bruised by the ripple of unseen muscles._

\-- from "Hysteria"

-o-

The soft sounds that Nick lets out fascinate her. They're low and breathy and full of the need that he normally keeps hidden, however imperfectly. But then there's no one here to hide it from, no one who would judge him for it. She's never been one to weigh Nick and find him wanting and Warrick doesn't care.

It's easy to see why Warrick doesn't care - it's Warrick who gets to hold Nick still, pinning him to the bed. His strong, capable hands are dark against Nick's pale flesh and the contrast makes her throat ache.

It's Warrick who gets to drive those soft, liquid sounds out of Nick with every thrust, his long, musician's fingers curling around Nick's hips. He's holding Nick hard enough to leave bruises and later she'll trace the outline of them with her tongue, imagining that she can still taste Warrick's sweat on Nick's skin.

It's Warrick who gets to possess Nick in a way that she never could, but it's Nick she wants to possess.

She knows she shouldn't think about Nick that way. It's un-PC; unhip and uncool. So many 'un's but the ones she thinks of right now, watching Nick arching back into Warrick's touch, are 'undulates'. Unresisting.

Undone.

When she looks at Nick these days, this is what she sees - eyes closed, mouth parted, lips slick and wet, pearly white teeth like stars capturing the soft pink tip of his tongue between them. Nick's brow is furrowed as he twists and moans in Warrick's grasp, and it's these sounds that she hears in her head, these little gasps and sighs when she pictures him, not the deeper grunts and pants he lets loose when he's fucking her. Those sounds fascinate her too; they're raw and earthy and so damned sexy when he bucks into her, but they don't have this edge to them, this underlying **need** to them that captures and entrances her. They don't show the vulnerability that she's always known lurked underneath his bravado. He doesn't show it when he's fucking her, but he can't hide it when Warrick is fucking him.

Warrick's not vulnerable. Warrick never is. Even now, even buried in Nick, touching Nick in a way that tells her he's ached to touch Nick like this all day, he's not vulnerable. He can talk to her softly, and his smile can be as sweet as honey, but Nick always has that sweetness, like whipped chocolate and cream, and there's something about that that gets inside her, melting right into all those places she thought she'd shut off years ago, some time between discovering what a prick she'd married and kicking his ass to the curb for good.

Nick lets out another soft sound, and his eyes drift open, meeting hers. His are dazed, as soft as the sounds that have captured her, as the feel of his fingers against her skin when he touches her. There's nothing in them but pleasure; no shame, no guilt. He slid into this remarkably easily, as easily as Warrick slides into him now. As easily as she loses herself in both of them.

She lost herself in Nick first, of course, melted right into his arms and his bed, hot and sticky and sweet.

She captures the next sound he lets out with her mouth and swallows it, his breath mingling with hers somewhere deep inside of her. Her fingers brush against Warrick's arm where it's wrapped around Nick's chest, the flesh as warm under her fingertips as Nick tastes. When she opens her eyes it's Warrick's gaze she meets, his eyes bright green and fierce over Nick's shoulder. He never melts like Nick when they do this, never loses himself the way that Nick does. Where Nick becomes soft and pliable, all sweaty, smooth skin, hair in damp and soft spikes and eyes you could drown in, Warrick becomes harder; sharp planes and angles, fierce twists and jabs but no less desirable for that.

She's not sure where she falls on this spectrum. Somewhere between them she suspects. Or maybe she doesn't. Maybe she doesn't fall between them at all, just becomes something 'else', something other than they to balance them. She doesn't know, doesn't waste too much time thinking about it.

She never looks back and she certainly never regrets this.

This is what she knows; Nick tastes sweet when she kisses him, sliding her tongue slowly past his lips and tracing over his teeth. Warrick isn't as sweet when she leans forward and steals a taste of him over Nick's shoulder. There's something earthy about him, something that speaks of raw need, of untamed wildness, a wildness that matches the one that beats inside her breast. They're sugar and spice and twice as nice.

Nick's breath is warm against her neck and her breasts press against his chest, the nipples dragging over his taut skin as she presses closer to Warrick, her kiss fiercer, a clash of teeth and tongues that neither wins. It makes her ache and throb and want more, her flesh against Nick's, her tongue against Warrick's. Warrick's back still bears the marks of her fingernails from earlier, and when she squeezes her thighs together she can still feel the phantom presence of him in her, her flesh puffy and slightly sore. It's a good ache - as good as the itch he'll feel in his back as he flexes against Nick.

He swore and called her an alley cat when her fingers curled and dug into his flesh as she came with him buried as deeply in her as he is in Nick now. She purred and met Nick's eyes, catching the amusement in them as he stroked one hand down her flank to stroke through the damp curls of her pussy.

But that was then and this is now and now is Nick moaning softly against her skin, his fingers tracing again over the curve of her hip. They clench against her flesh as Warrick drives in deeper, adding that twist to his hips that she knows so well. She drags her fingers over Nick's sweaty skin, bringing them up to his throat where they rest against the frantic pounding of his pulse, and steals another slow kiss.

The first time they did this they were high, more on the successful conclusion of a difficult case than the case full of beer they'd consumed. Warrick had watched as Nick's hand slid up under her skirt, territory Nick had been intimately familiar with by then. She'd watched Warrick watching Nick touch her, made bold by her lack of protest. She came the first time with Nick's fingers in her, the second with Nick in her, her eyes holding Warrick's gaze until her body shivered and tightened and she arched her back and twisted her fingers in Nick's sweaty hair. She came again, later, with Warrick in her and Nick's fingers twisted in her hair as he kissed her like he'd never stop.

The second time they did this, Warrick had kissed Nick like that, while she made Nick come with her mouth and tongue. Later that same night, Nick had gone down on Warrick, knowing better than to baulk while the taste of him was still on her tongue. She'd said nothing. She hadn't needed to. Instead she'd pressed her lips against Nick's throat, feeling the muscles move beneath his skin as he swallowed, dragging his tongue over Warrick's swollen flesh.

They'd never talked about it, not then, not after, but she'd seen everything about that night reflected in his eyes; fascination, dread and desire combined. The dread hadn't lasted long. She knew him well enough by then to know that his body was better at rationalising this than his mind ever could be, and that Nick could rationalise almost anything that felt that damned good. He didn't brood any more than she did, and they were both highly adaptable.

He'd adapted well. Four times down the line and Nick had come with her mouth on him and Warrick's fingers up his ass. That had been the first time she'd heard those sounds and they'd left her wet and aching. Six times and Warrick's cock had been up there too, and she'd never wanted those sounds to end.

Now the rhythm to this may be familiar to all of them, but it's no less enticing for that. She's never going to be able to get enough of the taste of Nick or of the smell of their bodies combined. She's never going to tire of sliding down Nick's body to watch as Warrick slips in and out. She's never going to tire of that look on Nick's face; pleasure tinged with just enough pain for him to know that he's alive.

She reaches out, slides her thumb over Nick's wet mouth, slipping it between his parted lips. His eyes stay closed but he sucks on it softly and she hears Warrick's breath hitch at the sight. Nick's fingers are still curled around her hip and she rocks against him, the ache between her legs growing, inflamed by the naked pleasure on Nick's face and the hunger on Warrick's.

Nick's always been good at reading her, even with his eyes closed, and bang on cue his hand moves, sliding over her hip to between her legs, his fingers teasing at her wet and swollen folds. She sighs and leans forward, replacing her thumb with her mouth as one finger slides into her. It lacks Warrick's girth, or Nick's, but right now it's enough to stoke the fires further. She slides her thigh over his hip, pressing her heel into Warrick's hip and opens her eyes, cat narrow, to watch Warrick's face as he rocks into her lover.

He's watching her again, but then he always does. Watches Nick when Nick makes love to her, watches her when he makes love to Nick, always watching. Watching her face now as Nick's fingers curl and twist inside her, sending sharp shards of pleasure deep through her belly.

He leans forward, pressing Nick's body harder against her, Nick's skin slick with sweat against hers. Warrick's breath is hot against her face, his lips a bare fraction above the surface of her cheek. It smells of the sweet spice he tastes of and she releases Nick's mouth to savour him again.

His fingers slide down over her side, just firmly enough to stop shy of ticklish, just slow enough to cause her breath to catch in her throat at the promise they contain. They slide over her hip, following the path that Nick's fingers traced earlier and then his fingers join Nick's, pressing Nick's deeper into her, harder this time, rocking her body upwards with their force. She pulls back and meets Warrick's eyes again, gleaming green in his intense face, still watching her, watching her face flush with pleasure. Fingers rock into her again, thicker this time, Warrick's digits joining Nick's, both stretching her wide, filling her.

She grabs hold of Nick's shoulder, biting back a keen, losing herself in the rhythm of their touch.

She could come like this, so easily. Come to the sensation of them stroking inside, but Nick's breathing has taken on those little catches, the little breathy hitches that tell her he's so damned close he's going to come before she is.

She has no objections to that. She's come once already and fair's fair. Besides, she wants to see him, watch his face twist with pleasure, watch the triumphant look blossom across Warrick's face as Nick stutters out his name.

She pulls away from them, pressing her damp forehead against Nick's for a moment, taking the opportunity to steal another heated, open-mouthed kiss. Nick barely seems to register it, his mouth slack against hers, his whole attention fixed on his dick. She can't blame him for that. If she had a dick, she'd be focused on it too. As it is, she can ignore the swollen stickiness between her thighs long enough to enjoy the sight and sound of him climaxing.

She slides down Nick's body, comes to rest near his groin and lets her hot breath flow around it. He arches towards her, a whimper dying in his throat, and she takes pity on him, easing her finger around the slick end of Nick's cock, wetting the corona with his own pre-come and is rewarded with another of those sounds, higher pitched this time.

When she looks back up the length of Nick's body, he's watching her, eyes still dazed but almost desperate now. Warrick's fingers, still wet with her essence, twist around his nipple and Nick groans, his head falling back against Warrick's shoulder, his breathing speeding up. She can feel his heartbeat thrumming through his cock as she curls her fingers around it just to feel the shudder run through him, and she watches as Warrick's slick fingers capture his face, turning it towards him so that he can kiss Nick.

It's harder than she kisses Nick, teeth clicking together loudly enough for her to hear it over the sound of her breathing. Warrick's fingers will smell of her, she knows. Taste of her too, and Warrick must have heard her thought or read her mind or known her well enough by now to know what she'd be thinking because he's pulled back far enough to slide his fingers into Nick's mouth in place of his tongue.

Nick moans again, his eyes closed and his face red and sweaty. He suckles on Warrick's fingers as he did on hers earlier, his face suffused with pleasure, whether at the feel of Warrick's cock still pumping slowly in and out of him or at the scent and taste of her she doesn't know. Doesn't much care at that one moment, not when Nick looks so damned hot, so damned helpless in Warrick's grip.

Warrick's hand moves back down to Nick's hip then further, sliding down through the dark hair circling Nick's groin. His fingers brush against hers and their eyes meet in a moment of perfect understanding. Then his hand moves on again, over Nick's thigh then underneath to raise it, bring it up towards Nick's chest.

She has a better view now, knows that's what Warrick intended. She feels no shame at liking to watch this, any more than Warrick feels about watching she and Nick fuck. He likes to watch her ride Nick, likes to watch Nick's eyes fastened on her like she's the only thing in the universe right then - just Catherine and Nick's dick. She likes to watch it too, watch Warrick's dark flesh sliding in and out of Nick, likes to remember what it feels like in her, how big it feels, how the skin stretches taut, every nerve end singing as he fills her. She loves to feel it in Nick, pressing her fingers against Nick's perineum just firmly enough to actually feel the pressure of Warrick's cock as it moves in her lover.

Presses hard enough for Nick to feel it too and he lets out a strangled sob, his cock jerking in her hand. He's even closer, teetering on the edge. She can feel it in the tension that sings through his body as she moves up to lap at the tip of his cock, swirling her tongue around the slit and tasting the salty musk of him.

Another of those strangled sobs and she raises her eyes enough to watch Warrick twist Nick's nipple again between work-calloused fingertips, harder than she ever would. The pain does nothing to dampen Nick's ardour; she can feel his cock still pulsing in her hand, beneath her lips, see how much he loves in the way that those white teeth fasten on his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood as he tries, and fails, to hold back on another moan.

She can't give him this, but Warrick can and she doesn't envy it, not anymore. Warrick can give Nick this, things she wouldn't be able to give him even if she bought all the toys in the world. She lacks Warrick's strength, the strength to hold Nick still and simply take him, but there's strength of a different kind in the soft curves of her body and she knows enough to know that Nick needs and craves both kinds.

No point in getting worked up about that.

Nick's closer still, his whole body straining towards his orgasm and Warrick deliberately slows his moves, sliding deep and slow into Nick's body with a smooth roll of his hips, ignoring the way that Nick is panting hard now, his fingers scrabbling at her shoulder, desperate for the feel of any part of her flesh. Nick's eyes are clenched tightly shut, his lips parted as he gasps for breath and she can't resist, letting his cock slip from her lips and moving upwards to steal another kiss.

Her tongue slides past his lips. They're rough and dry and she wets them as she kisses him into submission, his breaths now hers. His cock is still slick and wet beneath her fingertips and she begins a slow, smooth rhythm that matches the way that Warrick is moving in him, adding that twist to the top of her stroke that he loves.

He's back to whimpering, eyes clenched so tightly closed it's as though sight pains him. Perhaps he just needs to feel, not see, concentrate solely on the pleasure they're both wringing from his wire-taut and tension wracked body.

She pulls back just enough to watch his mobile and expressive face show everything he's feeling. His fingers have fastened around her wrist, not to stop her, not to guide the movement of her hand but just, it seems, so that he can feel the flex of her tendons as she works on him.

She scoots lower, her head level with his chest now, her eyes alternating between watching Warrick continue to twist and torment his swollen teat and her hand twist and torment his swollen cock. She releases her grip on him, ignoring his groan of protest, and lowers her hand to roll his balls gently in her fingers. They stroke over Warrick's skin too, bumping up against Warrick's balls each time he buries himself fully in Nick, and she likes the feel of that, the idea that she can touch both of them like this at the same time. As though in that one moment they're one flesh.

She slides down further so that she can see the end of Nick's cock, smell the scent of him as he grows closer to orgasm. She lies on her side, brings her other hand up to wrap it around him. She wants to watch him come, watch him climax with Warrick in him. Wants to see the creamy white streamers coat his skin, a sharp contrast to the golden, downy skin of his stomach. Wants to see it glisten in the dark curls clustered around the base of the cock she still clutches.

Warrick's fingers are digging into Nick's thigh hard enough to leave indents in the skin, and for a second she thinks that he's close to the edge too until she releases that he's merely trying to hold Nick still. Nick, who is twisting in his grasp and still making those goddamned wonderful sounds; somewhere in there he lets out a _Catherine_ too. Nick, who is so close to the edge that she can almost taste it.

Nick, whose cock is pulsing in her hand before he finally comes, hard, splashing over her hand, his stomach and her breasts. She slows the movements of her wrist, riding out the last few shivers of his climax and feeling the tension ebb away from him.

She releases him, slides her fingers through the white, sticky mess on his stomach and brings them up to his lips. Again he suckles on them, but lazily this time, his body limp and his gaze sated and peaceful. She can't resist any longer, even if he's no longer driving her crazy with those soft sounds of his, and captures his mouth again, tasting his own come on his tongue.

It sends another surge of heat through her, and she rocks restlessly, desperate for some sensation other than the feel of her thighs against her swollen flesh. She meets Warrick's calm gaze over Nick's shoulder and recognises the heat lurking in the ocean green depths of his eyes. It's the same heat that's still curling in her belly, licking at the centre of her, making her ache and bite back on a moan of her own.

Warrick's hand lets go of Nick's thigh and moves back to Nick's hip, holding him steady as he eases out and ignoring the soft sound of protest that Nick lets out as he does so. Their eyes meet in another of those moments of perfect understanding before Warrick leans down and whispers to Nick, "On your hands and knees, baby."

She recognises the soft tone. It's full of all of the same things that are in her voice when she speaks to Nick, whether he's mussed and sweaty and sticky, and most of all loose-limbed and pliant like this or whether they're simply alone, just the two of them, in the dark. It's full of the same things she feels when she looks at Nick, when she listens to the sound of his pleasure, his submission to what he feels, and to them.

Nick's eyes are heavy lidded and dark and satiated, and there's the same satisfaction evident in the kiss-swollen lines of his lips, in the way that he rolls over and pushes himself up. There's an element of the tease about it, a subtle hint that maybe, just maybe neither she nor Warrick holds all the cards here. Almost as if to drive that point home, he pauses to kiss her slowly and deeply again, ignoring Warrick's huff of good-natured impatience behind him. Warrick's eyes meet hers again, still hungry but with a rueful amusement in them, his hand slowly stroking his length as he watches. She settles back to enjoy the kiss, loving the way that Nick takes his time and refuses to rush it, in spite of the heaviness between her thighs, the need to come again herself. She luxuriates in it, as he luxuriates in her.

His mouth moves down her neck, over her swollen and aching breasts, licking off the traces of his orgasm from her skin as he moves down her body. His hands part her thighs, his thumbs stroking over her sweaty skin and his tongue flickering over the wet and swollen flesh of her cunt as he arches his back and spreads his thighs.

The sight takes her breath away. God only knows what it does to Warrick, resting on his heels lower down the bed. She catches the brief flare of heat in Warrick's eyes as he stares down at what's being offered, and then her own eyes glide shut as Nick's tongue slides into her. He curls it up, stroking deep inside and she almost rises from the bed, her breath coming in hard gasps as the sensation courses through her.

She knows exactly when Warrick takes up what's being offered, feels it in the way that Nick's tongue is forced deeper into her as he's rocked forward with the force of Warrick's thrust. She gasps again, biting back on the cry that tries to escape and tightens her fingers in the short strands of Nick's hair. The fingers of her other hand scrabble behind her to twist in the fabric of the pillowcase. She keeps her eyes closed, focuses instead on the feel of Nick's tongue against her, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and the soft grunts Warrick lets out on each thrust. Any sounds Nick might be making are muffled by her body, but his fingers tighten on her thighs when Warrick picks up the pace.

She feels the waves of pleasure coming faster now, driven not only by the way that Nick's tongue flickers over and around her clitoris, moving lower every now and then to dart into her, but also by the knowledge of what Warrick is doing, of what Warrick is feeling. With an effort, she forces her eyes open, wanting to watch as well as know that Warrick is fucking Nick even as Nick's fingers release their death grip on her thigh and begin to tease her entrance again.

Warrick's head is thrown back, sweat gilding his dark torso, slicking his dreads in damp tendrils to his forehead. The muscles in his throat are corded, and as she watches a single droplet of sweat escapes to run down his throat and over his muscular chest.

Nick's finger slides into her and she moans out loud. The sound captures Warrick's attention, and he opens his eyes, his gaze catching hers as she slides down the bed just enough to let Nick's finger slide deeper into her. He slides a second in beside it, twisting them both and crudely finger fucking her. It's what she needs, what she craves as she watches Warrick close his eyes again and pick up the pace. He's slamming into Nick now, hard enough to rock Nick forward so that his fingers jab into her and his tongue presses against her clit. She moans again, twisting and writhing, rocking against the fingers Nick continues to work in her, his thumb now joining his tongue in pushing against her sensitive nub, rubbing hard enough to make her see stars.

There's no finesse but she needs none, not when Warrick is fucking Nick hard, so hard that she can almost feel him slamming into her too, Nick's fingers a pale substitute for the feel of Warrick's cock. She closes her eyes again and imagines it, Warrick in her, Nick in her. One after another. Imagines what it would be like to have them both in her at once, to know what it felt like to have Warrick in her ass while Nick rocked into her like he'd like nothing better than to bury himself in her forever. The thought is enough to bring her to the edge, teetering there while Nick's fingers and tongue work their magic.

Her last coherent thought is to wonder if being fucked by both of them at once would be enough to have her making the same kind of sounds that Nick makes. It's too much, too big, too damned everything.

She falls; stars in her vision and her fingers twisted in Nick's hair.

When she comes back down to earth, Nick's fingers are back to gripping her thighs, bracing himself against Warrick's onslaught. Warrick's head is thrown back, his bared teeth startlingly white against his face as he pounds into Nick mercilessly. Nick's forehead is pressed against her thigh and his breath is hot against the centre of her, driven out in soft 'hunh' sounds each time Warrick slams into him and she feels another treacherous throb of interest run through her.

Warrick freezes for a moment, lets out a sharp, "Oh... God!" and bucks against Nick, his face contorting. For a brief moment his face **is** as vulnerable as Nick's before it relaxes and smoothes out into the smooth expression she's more familiar with.

She lets go of Nick's hair, smoothing her fingers through the sweaty strands as Nick pulls away slowly, his expression back to dazed. The lower half of his face is slick and shiny with her juices, and she slides her fingers through them, before raising them to her lips in an echo of their early interaction.

He watches her, his lips curling in a smile before pulling himself up to kiss her again, the move sloppy and uncoordinated. She laughs against his mouth, loving the way that his lips curl against hers, and tastes herself on his lips, on his tongue. It's more pungent than the taste on her fingers, and she wraps her arms loosely around his neck, pulling him closer and sliding her tongue into his mouth as she lets her fingers slide over his damp skin of his back.

The mattress dips and Warrick is stretched out beside them, his expression indulgent now as he watches them trade slow and easy kisses. There's no heat in those kisses, just everything else that lies between them, and Warrick isn't part of this. He doesn't try to be, just scoots over to let Nick lie beside her, in the valley between them, Nick wincing slightly as his ass protests the move.

She kisses Nick again before leaning across him to kiss Warrick too, let Warrick taste both of them - her taste and Nick's - on her tongue before lying back down and meeting Nick's eyes again.

He smiles at her, the expression so open and contented it takes her breath away. It has her reaching out and placing her hand on Nick's chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her fingers. At some point during the night, while they're warm and drowsy, she'll move without realising it and end up with her head pillowed there, listening to the soft rhythm of his body. It will be slow and even and it will lull her back to sleep.

There will be room by then to stretch out and enjoy it, because Warrick will be long gone and the hollow where his body lay already growing chill. It doesn't bother her. Doesn't seem to bother him and it won't bother Nick because in the morning, when he's hard again and she's beginning to feel that stirring in her blood because he's there and sleepy and mussed and smelling so damned good, he'll reach for her.

He'll fuck her hard and he'll fuck her well, give her what she needs and what she hasn't had yet - the feel of Nick buried deep within her, stretching her in a way that's him and him alone because he's unique. The feel of him is different from the feel of Warrick and she would not change one for the other. Warrick is heat and mystery and hard lines and planes, and Nick is comfort in the night, and soft eyes and hands in the sunny warmth of the morning.

No, in the morning it won't matter that Warrick's not there. It won't matter because she'll still smell Warrick on his skin and trace the small bruises forming on his body with her fingertips. And he'll still feel Warrick each time he pushes into her; he'll feel Warrick in the ache of his body, his ass clenching with every thrust around the remembered feel of Warrick buried deeply within him.

Even when it's only the two of them, even when it seems as though they only need the two of them, the bed is big enough for three.

It always has been.

The End


End file.
